


to fulfill a promise, little by little

by masamune11



Series: Noragami x K [4]
Category: K (Anime), ノラガミ | Noragami
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Noragami Fusion, Crossover, Gen, PTSD, Traumatic Vision, Tsukuyomi Theory, Yato is Tsukuyomi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9322880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masamune11/pseuds/masamune11
Summary: Following the visit from heaven, Yukine observed, pondered, and decided this: he will see through Yato's reinstatement as the moon god. Not that he had a choice in the first place.Or,In which Yukine witnessed Yato's changes, Anna was more than she seemed, and Yato suffered.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed.
> 
> This fic takes... at least three months to write. In all honesty, I've been questioning myself how to write a proper, light-hearted-but-driven-and-still-teenager Yukine. But given the situation in my head, I end up writing him as patient, so if it's OOC... WELL. Apologies beforehand, ladies and gentleman.
> 
> Also some Yato-angst (even if it's not really).
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

It was barely a week after the unfortunate incident, one that costed Susano-O’s life, when Heaven stepped in once more and interfered with Yukine’s afterlife.

The envelope stuck to Kofuku’s mailbox was just like any other normal letter. If he were an ordinary person (which he wasn’t, by the way; a person he may be, but he was dead and currently served as a one exemplar for the self-proclaimed hopefully soon-to-be god of fortune), Yukine would have dismissed the envelope altogether; the writing  _‘with respect, from Heaven_ ’s _bureau of information and relation services’_ at the back of the envelope, where the sender’s name should have been on, would only convince him that the letter was some sort of a stupid prank. But Yukine knew enough not to dismiss a summon from heaven now, especially when the sun goddess herself graced their humble abode not even three days prior, as a _prank_.

Not to mention, there was the matter of the words emblazoned on the front of the letter: **To His Most Gracious Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto**.

Yukine stared long and hard at the letter when he registered the addressee—the alternate name of his god which he had a hard time believing because _will this make him the regalia of one moon god? after all_ this?—and pondered if he should even bring this matter to _anyone’s attention at all_. When Hiyori came out to look for him, inquiring why he was taking so long to check the mail and asking him to help Daikoku around, the regalia quickly hid it away and quickly pounced to his next task.

He marveled the liveliness of Hiyori’s smile as she moved, thinking back how _heaven had hands in twisting that smile into fear once upon a time_ , and decided to keep that sheet of paper hidden— _safe_.

No one would know, he thought.

* * *

Except, Heaven _did_.

Two days after, when the sun was high and his training session almost at an end, Yukine saw a flash of white appearing behind the trees. It was a peculiar sighting, considering the spot he picked—a quiet clearing at the outskirt of a forest near Kofuku’s household—was seldom visited by near-shore beings. The moment he saw that flowing white (the closer it got, the more he was convinced that the flash was never a trick of light, but rather a swaying piece of white fabric—a _person_ ), the Regalia quickly drew a boundary, just before the person moved to within a meter from where Yukine stood.

The person wore something akin to montsuki kimono in white. His face—his head, rather—was covered with a long white robe, which fell off soon after Yukine’s boundary line appeared. The person, if he can be called so, had long platinum blond hair, partially tied at the back, and a single scar crossing over his nose horizontally. What struck Yukine the most, however, was the curious look that the man bore towards him, as if Yukine was a riddle to be solved.

A beat of silence, a flicker of diminishing boundary line; the man then inquired, "are you the exemplar of Tsukuyomi-sama?"

Yukine did not even try to hide his annoyance at the mention of that name. “It’s supposed to be _Yato,_ ” he scowled with his arms crossed, “and you are… a messenger from Heaven?"

The man in question nodded, “I am Kiun, vessel name Ouki, and I serve the thunder god Takemikazuchi. I am here to personally ask for the response of Tsukuyomi-sama regarding the matter of his welcoming banquet next week."

The fact that this was the regalia whom his mentor beat did not escape his attention (the scar on his face was probably a result of that), though he was more ill-at-ease with the purpose of this visit. “An invitation? Unfortunately, we have received no words from Heaven at all, so far,” Yukine offered, though his eyes narrowed in distaste, “perhaps because you do not refer him with his real name?"

If the heaven’s messenger was affronted by that unsubtle remark, Kiun certainly did not make his displeasure apparent. He only stared resolutely at the younger regalia with a hint of… _amusement_. “Then, blessed regalia belonging to Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto-sama, would you be so kind to grant me an audience with your master?"

The remark wasn’t biting; it did not even graze his ego, and yet Yukine found himself aggravated by the way Kiun referred him as a regalia of the moon god. He was even more so when he registered Kiun’s posture, so readily to draw a line or play whatever tricks he had under his sleeve if Yukine did not make way.

He remembered the deceptive form of the sun goddess and her esteemed guardian deity, how they easily intruded into Yato’s lives as if they did not matter. Kiun may be the regalia of the thunder god, but he knew not of what kind of strings the man could pull if only to throw Yato’s state of affairs in disarray.

Thus, Yukine, with a defeated sigh, yielded, “I will take you to him."

* * *

“I have no interest to join the party,” Yato’s voice was firm and unmoving, and Yukine released what breath he unconsciously held.

Kofuku threw an appalled look at him, though she made no comment. Daikoku did something along the line, though he was more conscious in hiding his dismay. Declining an invitation from Heaven, especially when one was the center of the attention, was not a wise move, even after Yato reclaimed his right as the moon god (once more).

Yukine watched how Kiun anxiously bit his lips, unprepared for this development. “We would be much troubled if you cannot attend the banquet. Will you not at least consider further?"

“There is nothing else to consider. You can tell my sister that I will not be joining whatever that is.” the self-claimed god of fortune snarled, the edge of his words surprising Yukine because _Yato usually had better manner than this._  He understood that the god was apprehensive with the whole idea, but the young regalia cannot understand why it upset the god to this extent. 

Then he looked at how tense Yato’s shoulders were, how his posture screamed of running away, how he was ready to unravel right there and then, just with the right pull— 

“I humbly request _your highness_  to attend, since both of your siblings insist on your presence—"

—and unravel Yato did.

Perhaps it was the mention of his siblings, one whom the moon god ran away from and one whom he killed last week, that evoked those ethereal blue eyes, dark as the wintry night, that stopped Kiun mid-sentence. Then, as if he was a marionette with loosened strings, Kiun’s whole stance relaxed. The regalia’s gaze suddenly turn blank, as if someone had switched off recognition in his mind, and Yukine found it unsettling.

“ _Get out of here. Now_."

There was something in Yato's words that beckoned Yukine to do as his master bid. But his hand was suddenly pulled under the table, shaking him off his trance. The regalia got to notice Kiun rising from where he stood and then walked out of the room, disappearing to heaven-knew-where. The only persons left in the room were both of them, Kofuku, and Daikoku.

A very pallid Kofuku, Yukine mentally corrected.

"Yato-kun," Kofuku's voice was small, as though the other god would smite her if she made a wrong comment, “Kiun is gone for now, would you _kindly_ … settle down?"

Kofuku's words were enough to dispel whatever trance Yato was in; the blackness eventually dissipated, revealing the blue eyes that glinted in the night rather than embodied _it_. Yato let out a half sob—one that invited another pitying look from the goddess, one that made Yukine tremble—and covered his face, “I just—“ he stopped, perhaps noticing how fragile his words was compared to his solemn outburst. He made a short pause, and then a defeated sigh, “I can’t deal with this now. I’ll return to my room."

The ‘ _please don’t disturb me_ ’ hung unsaid as Yato exited the room. Yet Yukine was never one to follow his god’s order if it related to Yato’s well-being; he would have risen up and tailed Yato back, if only to display a silent gesture of solidarity. But Yukine was still rooted to the floor, dazed and, dare he say, _petrified,_ by the time he could no longer see Yato’s back.

How can he claim to be Yato’s trusted regalia when he did not have the _spine_ to back it up?!

Kofuku looked at him with kindness and understanding, as if she knew the thoughts rolling inside his head, and then spoke sadly, “stay with him, Yuki-kun. He needs you now, more than ever."

He followed the goddess’ advice and rushed out of the room, heart-throbbing and dread-filled.

* * *

“When Munakata said that I am the moon god, he was speaking the truth,” Yato confessed, his eyes wandering to the night sky, just where the moon hang eerily in the sky. “At first, the idea sounded unreasonable. But as time goes by, I begin seeing visions of another… I can recall his existence as the moon god—his place by her side, his banters with Suoh-san, the castle where he resided, and the other regalia which he cared for. But the more I explored these visions, the more they convinced me that I _have always been him_."

The image of Yato making use of many regalias, probably with some blessed ones among them, evoked a silent jealousy at the bottom of Yukine’s heart. Yukine silently hoped that it was not enough to sting the god. Better yet if the thought never reached the other. But then Yato turned at him and smiled, somber but understanding, “they were nothing like you, Yukine. No regalia will ever be like you."

So much for wishing some privacy.

Yukine twitched where he sat, his eyes tracing the loose form of his god as though the regalia would forget it with a single, spoken word, “as your exemplar, I think you don’t have to worry much about this development… for the time being."

He noticed the look of surprise written all over Yato’s face and cut him first the god had the chance to rebuke, “I’m not saying that we will do nothing. But I think it is better to know more of what is happening."

The god was silent, but Yukine could still see the remaining tenseness on his shoulders. He knew that the other was still unconvinced, as if his master was still missing things, was still grasping for invisible items he could not have—

( _then he looked at Yato’s face and saw his own expression back when he was still an upstart regalia_ )

—and Yukine quickly rose up and closed the distance between them. Up close, beneath the very thing that he will embody in the future, Yato’s grace was one of insecurity and loneliness; Yukine will not claim that he had better advice to offer, but he knew what to state: “you will not be alone in this, Yato. I am with you in every step… until it’s over."

The god let out a sigh and murmured something about ‘ _being reliable’,_ before flashing a bemused but accepting smile, “if this is the path that my exemplar advises, then I shall follow through."

* * *

The following day, Munakata, claiming that he was sent by the sun goddess herself to meet the moon god, returned to their abode as Heaven’s chosen messenger. He could have come with a a friendly smile, treating this occasion like a friendly visit, but in the end, the man chose to wear the mask of propriety and coldness.

In all honesty, Yukine disliked his presence.

But then he noticed the exhaustion shadowing Yato’s word of acceptance, saw Munakata’s curt but polite nod before said god returned to the sky, and decided that he disliked the whole circumstances as a whole, rather than the goddesses-incarnate himself.

(But he loathed himself more than either of the two, because Yukine was setting up his god to the rough path of self-reconciliation. He will remember this in every way Yato fidgeted—remember and hurt.)

* * *

The whole circumstance of this _kamuhakari_ was unorthodox, from whatever angle one would view. But no one would voice their reluctance in holding the impromptu gathering; the high queen herself requested for the celebration to be held, to rejoice upon the return of her wayward brothers, as though what relationship they had had already crumbled, ground into dust with no way of fixing. No one was brave nor blatant enough to offend the goddess of the sun, after all. So they partied, the brothers sitting on their makeshift thrones right by the queen’s sides and looking as proper as they could be.

 _Yato tried hard_ , Yukine thought as his sight swept over to where the heavenly siblings had been, but Yukine can still spot the god’s annoyance despite standing quite far away from him. His snarling face was rearing its head yet again, though the expression was slightly dampened by his closed eyes—an attempt to calm his self down, Yukine concluded. The god was trying his best to get along with the party, but the regalia knew that the further this charade went on, the longer Yato had to endure the stress for being there in the first place.

There was also the fact that people had been glancing at _him_ , the _hafuri_ belonging to the newly-rediscovered moon god as if they were unsure what to make of him. And they were right to feel so; he and his master were the ones forcefully put up in to this charade. It was not as if the council of heaven received them with open arms upon the judgment of the high queen.

Some regalia but _one_.

He noticed the young girl dressed in a frilly dress of red and black, standing in a circle of boys and men, quietly chattering until their gaze met. They were red, those eyes, and seemed so knowing and _old_. There was something in her glance that made him stay his ground and keep still—something that made him so _inferior_ , even when he knew that _she knew nothing of him_ (unlike Kazuma).

If his memory served him well, the girl was supposed to be Suoh-san’s regalia.

The girl broke her conversation with the other regalia and leisurely approached him. Yukine was ashamed to confess that he cannot lift a single finger as if her presence commanded him to bow down, even when she finally stopped right in front of him. She smiled kindly and spoke, “you are… Tsukuyomi-sama’s blessed regalia? I am Kushien, the exemplar appointed by heaven to guide the storm god Susano-O-no-Mikoto."

Well, at the very least, she was the only regalia present who was courteous enough to make acquaintance with him (even when her opening greeting rubbed him the wrong way) _._ “It’s Yato,” he bluntly responded, flinching accordingly when he noticed how defiant his tone was, but managed to keep his poise straightened, if only to make his point. “You might refer him as the revered moon god, but he is still Yato to me."

The snow-haired girl wilted, and Yukine felt a slight pang of guilt. “I’m sorry… you were named when he… was not himself,” she quietly rectified. Yet despite her morose expression, the light glinting in those ruby eyes only made Yukine aware that she was not all that contrite—that her expression was more like a placating front masquerading insincerity (or maybe wisdom? Yukine leaned to the former still).

“But even as he forgot his own name, I could never mistake that grace… the somberness… the quiet will."

Never mind the fact that the girl was high on her whatever-meds regalia have, since Yukine never witnessed Yato to embody such qualities. Yukine was disquieted by the fact that she spoke of him as if she had known him for a long time, at least before Yukine’s rebirth as Yato’s regalia. “You have known him for a long time, then?"

The snow-haired girl blinked, her attention quickly turned back to him once more. The smile she gave him was one of nostalgia and fondness, “I do. He was kind and knowledgable, loving and tranquil, meaningful and mischievous. He used to descend into the human world and graced his followers with wisdom and secrets—things that earned him many frowns from my master and her highness."

She shifted at her place, her gaze locked at Yato, currently being engaged (forcefully) with some gods, and full of reminiscence as if he would disappear in a flash.

“But then he vanished without a trace, right before the fight against the Emishi gods,” she continued, her tone bold and bitter, “his followers left him, his regalia turned on him. Everybody pointed fingers at each other, until the high queen directed those to the outer gods. So they went to war… and still found nothing. Her highness grieved, the moon lighting in the night only by her grace if only to remind everyone of the one lost in battle."

"But then the moon god returns coincidentally with the storm god's revelation," Yukine added absentmindedly, the thought settling cold in his mind, building another string of thought that disturbed him too much, "...surely no one thinks that your god is responsible for Yato's disappearance in the first place?"

She looked genuinely surprised at his question, and Yukine hoped that it was not because his inference was _right_.

"On the contrary, everybody thinks so. His history does not help our situation either,” she sighed, “if it were up to me, I would rather have him as far away from here as possible.”

Yukine blinked several times, “But aren’t you his exemplar? You can advise him to go away… or something, right?”

She let out a strained smile, pointedly cocking her head to the direction of the queen of heaven, and then answered solemnly, “given the current situation, we do not plan to cross her highness in the near future.”

A sudden, loud cheer from the attendees quickly stole their attention away. Amaterasu-oomikami had just finished her speech, congratulating the return of both her brothers, and offered the gods to start the feast. The storm god who had been itching to move away from the spotlight subsequently leaped out from the podium, causing much astonishment among regalia and gods alike, and went towards where Yukine and Kushien were. Yukine noted the childlike smile adorning the god’s face, so different to that lazy smirk which he witnessed not long ago, and the way Kushien’s sombreness quickly turning into gladness—one that screamed _protect_ and  _persevere—_ made him think of a nurturing mother.

But then he saw the cold anger beneath those crimson eyes and thought of something else: a scornful driven woman, biding her time to strike.

Yukine would love nothing more than to get away before whatever hell she was keeping was unleashed.

* * *

“So, what do you think of Kushien?”

The question caught Yukine, who was leaning over the wooden railing of veranda that he and Yato picked for privacy at that moment, off-guard. Given that the god was too preoccupied with other gods to notice his own regalia conversing with Susano-O’s, Yukine assumed that Yato had not noticed. The regalia contemplated where his god stood, his gaze never leaving the horizon even when the question was up in the air. Honestly? It pissed Yukine off— _a little._

In the end, Yukine answered with a sigh rather than a continual befitting a teenager, “she was devoted to keep her god safe. Though I can’t help but think that there is something about her… something dangerous.”

The quietly kept whatever his response to himself, although, judging from the tension on overshadowing his god’s feature, Yukine just knew that the god was in quite _distraught._ It was not an occurrence which he had ever witnessed for as long as he stood by his side, and Yukine was unsure how to approach the problem.

Silence and concealment certainly had never brought them closer to understanding; last time Yukine did so, he almost killed Yato by almost stinging him to death. It was one moment that he would never be proud of. Yet, to ask directly and inquire the matter at heart would be downright foolish; even he can see from miles away that Yato was… having a difficult time reconciling his life before _everything._ Yukine will not push him more than he should.

The dreadful silence lingered in the air until the fortune god decided that he had enough of it and turned to face his regalia. It was stupid in his part, but Yukine could not help but trace the god’s movement and feel nothing but unfamiliarity. The new attire, designed to complement the sun goddess’ and storm god’s, served only to further augment his impression, while his eyes, bearing a shade of silver which Yukine had never seen in any one’s, looked through him as if he was an item worthy to judge.

( _This was not Yato,_ he wanted to think. But then, he remembered how people said that this was him before _everything_ —and how they said that this will be him because the Queen of heaven will never let her brother out of sight ever _again_. It further solidified the self-loathing and insecurity hiding beneath his bosom, and Yukine wondered whether these thoughts had stung his master already… if not at all.)

Yato cringed, his shoulders sagging as he saw Yukine’s apparent surprise and discomfort written all over his face (and Yukine would admit this to be true; he was no Kazuma, who could say something with conviction when he believed otherwise) and let out a stupid remark: “you’re frightened.”

 _For you, not of you._ "I'd be lying if I say otherwise," the regalia quietly confessed, his amber eyes gazing straight at his lord with steel and resolve, "But it's not going to stop me from fulfilling my promise."

There was something odd about seeing his god exercise restraint; at the mention of that promise, Yukine noted the mirth and gladness in those silver eyes, despite the god's slackened (defeated) posture. Yato  always ignore personal boundaries, and yet here he was, standing accross Yukine while minding his place and considering what his exemplar was trying to convey.

"I… thank you, Yukine," he spoke as he closed he distance between both of them. Now they were leaning over the wooden railing, side by side, as Yato sauntered through his dialogue once more. 

“It’s,” Yato’s brows scrunched in annoyance, “Hard, to make sense of the things I recall in the last few days. What I recalled was not the same as what has happened around us. For example, Bishamonten? You don’t know how cold her previous incarnation was towards her own regalia. The fact that Kazuma picked her pet name based on her previous incarnation though… talk about grand irony."

There was another silence, one in which Yukine stewed because his gut told him that there was _more_  to come. It was true, because Yato suddenly let out a quiet plea, “Kushien’s dangerous, Yukine. Don’t get entangled with whatever plans she has up her sleeve.”

Yukine nodded in quiet acknowledgement, the words of his master ringing true with his hunch; there was something off about Kushien, something that settled wrong at the pit of his stomach when he recalled her presence it was something akin to Nora, _but more ancient_. The god sighed in relief, but then his expression turned pained, alarming the regalia so promptly that Yukine lurched forward to steady the other.

(What Yukine never spoke with Yato was this: there were nights when he was awake, drifting betwixt unconsciousness, when the god shifted uncomfortably in his resting, the pictures of a life before all of this his bleeding out like a beating river. The intensity was there, and yet Yukine can only piece what he knew by so little: the face of the High Queen, looking older and more regal than what she looked recently, Susano-O’s grim expression, and a man with a white mask hiding his face. Some time after witnessing these impressions and images, Yukine would came to, reaching out for the quiet noises which the god unconsciously let out.

They were of pain—ones that went away as quickly as he realized.

Yato claimed not to remember such things, but Yukine just knew better.)

Yukine noted the shallowness of his lord’s breathing, along with his unfocused gaze, and firmed his grip on Yato’s shoulders. _I am here_ , his grip tightening as if to say so, and Yato wheezed and he tried to regain some of his footing. The god succeeded, though the color of his face had left him, for the worse.

Yukine felt those impressions again, bleeding out from the bond between him and his god, of a  man in white mask armed with Shakujo, of a god clad in fire and turned the world into hell, of a day when Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto fell and fell and _fell_ —

(—his god had so many regalia at his disposal, so many to devote their fates to his cause, and yet what kept them together fell _apart_ ; Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto was alone, for no one would stand by him for longer—)

—and then, he saw Yato as the calamity god, the Nora when she was still just Mizuchi, the sorcerer that Yato tried to defend if only to persevere, Hiyori and her brightness,  _himself_ as Yato called him to his service, until the images faded out in a broken harmony of silver and black.

The intensity of those impressions was enough to make his head spin; in the end, he was reaching for the god to stabilize his footing as much as to steady the other. When the view of his surrounding cleared, the regalia nudged his master. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, Yukine feared that his master was long away; the coldness rolling out from his presence spoke of inconsistency and suffering and the regalia wondered just how intense his reconciliation was, if a sliver of it caused Yukine to blanch internally. But Yato lifted his head and smiled, despite how harrowed his posture was, how pallid his coloring had become, perhaps in an attempt to sooth the regalia’s failing composure (they were helpless and had no idea how to help themselves).

“As long as you _stay_ , Yukine, I will be.”

Yukine recalled the number of regalia under Tsukuyomi’s command, torn away so abruptly that the god _fell and fell and fell_ , and the loneliness echoing the void of life. The grief that Tsukuyomi experienced then reverberated still, reflected in the lost expression belonging to his own god. The regalia held back a sob, opting to tighten his grip on Yato’s shoulder instead, because _damn everything to hell, he will not let Yato go through that lonely path ever again_.

“Then we shall see this through."

**Author's Note:**

> **List of Regalias working under Susano-O-no-Mikoto who are mentioned in this chapter (En family [炎]):**
> 
>   1. Anna Kushina (櫛名アンナ, Kushina Anna)— human: 櫛/Kushi - Kushien [櫛炎] | vessel: Shitsuki [櫛器] — form: a normal comb that wards its user from minor corruption
> 

> 
> * * *
> 
> One of these days, I need to write more about Anna and the war.


End file.
